


The Feel Of It

by Rosage



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: The countess summons Julian with a musical request.





	The Feel Of It

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Fayery for previewing this.
> 
> It's inspired by the first trinket scene and Jeff Goldblum interviews.

Piano music filters through the hall. Julian recognizes parts of the melody from a play, but the theater must have cannibalized it—this is softer, more melancholic. It can’t stop his hands from strangling each other behind his back. The guard watches him warily, not that he can blame them. The countess summons him from time to time, but the ballroom is not the usual place for medical advice.

_Does she want my opinion on masquerade decor? Maybe a foot got slammed under the piano. It fell on someone and they died._

The guard opens their mouth. Before they can speak, he strides with finality through the grand doors.

Julian’s eyes dart around the lush decor until he finds the countess. To his surprise, she’s the one seated behind the piano, her posture as straight as can be with her eyes cast down. _You’re going to live a long life with that posture,_ he told her once.

“Evening, Countess,” he says with a jaunty dip. In their first meeting she insisted that throwing himself on the floor was not necessary. “May I, ah, how may I be of service?”

“Doctor. I hope I haven’t interrupted your work. If you’ve time to spare, I would ask your opinion on a non-urgent matter.”

Anyone, let alone the countess, asking for his advice is music to his ears. “All the time in the world for you, Countess!”

Unsure where he’s meant to stand, he moves to the foot of the platform, where he can’t tower over Nadia. Her lips quirk. “At least some for your patients, I hope.”

“Er, of course.” He tries for a moment to solve that one, catches her eye, and gives up. “How might I advise you?”

“Asra tells me you play.”

At the name, Julian’s eyes dart around, but they’re alone except for the guard posted at the door. _He talks about me?_ He barely remembers telling Asra that. He must have been blathering one evening, more aware of Asra’s breath than his own words.

“I play--yes, I play, well, when I get the chance.” It’s not as if he owns a piano. A fine tavern he used to frequent did, and he would accost it in exchange for waiving his tab.

To his disappointment, she stops playing. “I learned this piece long ago, but I simply don’t get it right anymore. My music tutors are ill. I can’t call upon the plagued for something like this.”

Without the music, he can almost hear dust settle. He should have found a cure, should be finding one right now. His feet shift audibly, and he’s aware that Nadia and the guard don’t move.

“I don’t know if I, that is, I don’t know when I’ll treat them, but I can certainly lend an ear in their place.” He tries to ignore the ball lodged in his throat. “But, er, I’m not sure how this piece is meant to sound.”

“It’s no matter. I have the music right here.”

She slides to the side, making space beside her on the bench. For a heartbeat (several of his), he stands frozen. He’s been eyeing the piano for a while, but it’s too fine a thing for his fingers, and it doesn’t do to attract attention in the palace. At her gesture, he stumbles onto the platform.

Quickly he settles beside her, trying to tuck in his long legs. He doesn’t realize how much he’s hunching until she says, “Slouchers live shorter lives, Doctor.” He bolts upright, uncomfortable to be looking down on her, though she looks amused. He’s surprised she paid enough mind to his words to remember.

She plays a section of the piece she’d been working on when he entered. The sight of her long fingers dancing across the keys, rings glinting in the light of the chandelier, only adds to the music’s elegance. His praise to that effect doesn’t impress her.

“I am capable of better. This transition here...” She repeats a bar. “It’s so stiff. I thought perhaps my hands weren’t positioned right, but it has only gotten more stilted.”

For her, the movement does seem stiff, not that others are likely to notice. He tears his gaze away from her fingers to study the sheet music, or try to. It’s complex, and he’s not trained in the style.

He admits this in a mumble, then adds, “I think we approach it differently. Music, I mean.”

“Oh? I apologize for assuming. I would be interested to hear how you play.”

“How can I say no? If you’ll just name a key...”

She does, and he tests out a few chords with one hand. His other hand snaps out a rhythm before descending to tap out a melody. As he gets into the swing of it, he leans over the piano, less conscious of her watchful eyes. A hum begins deep in his throat.

“I’ve never heard this piece before,” Nadia says.

“It’s not exactly… I’m improvising.”

“You prefer to improvise?”

“Mmm. You learn patterns in music, see? Chords and--and rhythms, and moods.”

“I know how improvisation works, Doctor. But I’ve only composed in different styles.”

“Ah, well, I’m far from a master, especially solo. I know it’s different than what you play, more swingy, but you might like it, it’s...technical.”

“I see. Thank you for the demonstration.”

Her lovely smile graces him from too close at his side. Asra would have taken the moment for a bit of silence, but that’s never been Julian’s strong suit. He ducks his head and plays an absent, bouncy tune. “It’s okay to just lean into it. Brings me back to--” This was _not_ an appropriate place to tell that story. “--my travels.”

“Brings you back?” Nadia clucks her tongue. “Perhaps that’s it. I’ve been so focused on this one part, I may have lost the feel of it.”

“Overthinking things will do that. Were you, er, trying to go back somewhere?”

This time he keeps his mouth shut while she strokes a key, her lips pursed. “No,” she says. “I’m fine where I am.”


End file.
